Stiles sat at the back of the bus, watching the world outside whirl past in a blur of green. Northern California was beautiful. Stiles planned on getting off long enough to sleep in an actual bed and get a hot meal at some fast food restaurant in the next town the bus stopped at before leaving again in a different direction once morning came. Hopefully it wouldn’t let those who were on his tail catch up too much.
The werewolves hunting him were a persistent group made of Alpha wolves who had somehow come together to form a pack. Stiles wasn’t sure how it all worked out for them, he had never met an Alpha who was any good at taking orders no matter how sensible the orders were.
Stiles watched as the bus slowed enough for the blur of the forest around them to turn into distinguishable shapes of trees and telephone poles. There was a house every once in a while, until they made a left turn and actually entered the town. It was a small place, Stiles figured that everyone probably knew everything about everyone else and knew that living in a place like this would drive him to insanity. He lived for the anonymity of the road, the way that he could hide who he was and what he’d done from everyone he met and didn’t have to worry about them trying to control him or hurt him.
Subconsciously he fingered the amulet he wore, it was a simple looking thing, made from pressed metal with Nordic runes burned into it and hung from a thick cord that hung down to his gladiolus. Such a simple looking thing that held so much power. The bus slowed even further as it pulled in front of a small police station and finally came to a halt. Stiles grabbed his book bag and stood to exit. It felt good to walk off the bus after sitting for so long, his legs ached from being cramped in the little seat and he decided that walking to the nearest motel would be good for him.
He was walking for close to five minutes when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up all the sudden. Something was watching him. Casually he used magic to untie his shoe so that he could kneel down to retie it. It was one of the oldest tricks in the book and didn’t normally work for most humans who used it but Stiles wasn’t completely human anymore. Hadn’t been in years since the curse took into effect.
He didn’t see anyone actually watching him, in fact, he didn’t see anyone at all which was the most unnerving part. Sure, it was close to nine at night, but there was absolutely no movement anywhere. Not wind in the trees, people behind curtains, no nocturnal creatures out for a stroll, nothing. The next thing he noticed was that the crickets had stopped chirping meaning it was as silent as it was still. Stiles stood abruptly and spun around to recheck his surroundings.
Anyone who wasn’t as experienced or smart as he was would have started running back towards the police station in hopes of finding someone. Stiles wasn’t stupid or inexperienced. He knew that whatever was watching him wouldn’t care if there were innocent people hurt while it tried to get him and that if it did it wouldn’t stop waiting and that he couldn’t be around people all the time. It was always best to get the pissing contests over with before the opponent thought he was a coward anyways.
“Come on out. I know you’re there.” Stiles called loudly and the only answer he got was a small rustle of bushes to his left. Stiles let out a bark of laughter and looked to his right.
“Clever.” A woman’s voice called out and its owner appeared where he was looking moments later. She was slightly older than him, probably mid-twenties or at least that was the projection she was giving. She could have been in her eighties and only be pretending to be in her mid-twenties. Druids had a tendency to be vain like that, especially female druids. She was a Dark Druid if her aura read correctly, they didn’t always so he knew he couldn’t rely on that completely, which wasn’t entirely dangerous depending on how many people she’d killed already.
“You don’t survive as long as I have without learning a few tricks.” Stiles shot back with a twisted grin.
“I’m sure you don’t. I’ve never met one of your kind that wasn’t clever but that was nearly a decade ago. There are so few of you now.” The Darach bemoaned with a fake pout. Stiles rolled his eyes. She might think she knew what he was but people very rarely guessed right on any of their attempts. Usually he had to give them hints, lead them to the correct answer or, sometimes when he was feeling nasty or if he didn’t like the person, he would lead the inquirer on a merry little goose chase before leaving without giving them any real answers.
“Like I haven’t heard that one before.” He muttered, shifting his backpack on his shoulder while he waited for her to get around to what she wanted.
He had a pretty good idea, sacrificing his kind would be a major power boost to any magic user so it wouldn’t shock him if she tried to cut his heart out or something. The Darach seemed to realize he wasn’t falling for this trick either and let a playful smirk form on her lips.
“Shall we get this started?” She asked and Stiles shrugged.
“Would be nice. I’d like to sleep in a bed tonight if that’s okay with you.” He said nonchalantly.
The Darach’s smirk fell and she morphed from a human brunette to a pale, bald looking thing that made Stiles glad he had hair. She was about to lunge at him when a sleek black Camaro came flying down the road towards them and she turned and ran. Stiles rolled his neck as the tension eased from his body and he turned to continue down the road in search of a place to sleep. The tension returned when the Camaro pulled up beside him and two wolves left it to approach Stiles.
“Hey!” A gruff voice said and Stiles let out an overly dramatic sigh because he could and turned to face the wolves.
“Look, didn’t really need your help cause, seriously a dark druid? I’ve dealt with plenty of those but you know what I deal with more? Werewolves, I mean you guys seem to breed like rabbits. So, let’s get this whole exchange out of the way before it even begins. No, I am not human, no, you cannot know what I am. I don’t need any help with anything and, no, I’m not sticking around long. I’m literally just in town for the night and maybe breakfast if there’s something open before the first bus leaves. Done? Done. Good. Bye.” Stiles said before turning back towards the motel and starting to walk again. He rolled his eyes to the starless sky when he heard the Alpha GrowlTM.
“Three, two.” Stile muttered under his breath and spun in time to see the wolf bounce off of an invisible barrier that Stiles had embedded into his aura. The wolf was in its beta form and snarled at him when it had trouble standing.
“Why do wolves always try that? I mean, it’s like the werewolf transformation cuts your IQ into little tiny pieces. Did you think that if I could take a Darach that I somehow couldn’t handle an Alpha wolf? Or did you think with your emotions? Because that is what leads to a lot of bad decisions like buying a new album of music because you liked one song and then deciding that you don’t actually like the band after all or even getting a second helping of curly fries because their your favorite food in the whole wide world and then getting sick because you ate way too much grease to survive the heat outside the diner. Yeah, wouldn’t suggest getting more than one helping of Auntie May’s Home Fried Curly Fries in Alabama in the summer, it tastes great going down, not so much coming back up. Thinking with your emotions isn’t a good idea is the point I’m trying to make.” Stiles rambled as the Alpha continued to growl lowly at him. The other wolf looked like he was confused by Stiles which Stiles understood, he was an acquired taste that didn’t stick around long enough to get used to.
“Can you just shut up!” The Alpha exploded and Stiles went quiet for about two seconds.
“Well someone’s a Sourwolf.” He said petulantly. The Alpha let out a loud snarl and threw his hands up before getting up off the ground and storming back to the driver’s side of the Camaro.
“Just, uh, make sure you’re out of town by noon tomorrow.” The beta said before sliding into the passenger’s side and shutting the door. The Camaro sped away from the curb and Stiles cocked a brow at its retreating form. Maybe he’d stick around for a couple days. Just to show that he couldn’t be bossed around by a couple of werewolves.
Derek stalked into the Halfmoon Diner at lunchtime to see a familiar person sitting at the bar. The hobo from last night was sitting in the middle of the counter with a plate of what smelt like a Philly Steak and Cheese and curly fries while chatting away with Deputy Parrish about different places he had supposedly been. Jordan Parrish was listening intently as the hobo yammered away. Derek grit his teeth and walked up to the cashier.
“Here for the usual?” Susan, the co-owner and usual cashier of the diner, asked with her sweet smile. Derek tried to return it but was sure that he had failed.
“Of course.” He said, face returning to its usual frown. Susan nodded and called back to her husband.
“Ricky! Those Full Moon Specials ready yet?” There was clattering from behind the window before Richard pushed a large plastic bag through the partition. Susan grabbed it and passed it to Derek who swiped his card and headed for the door. Before he left he stopped and turned around.
“Hobo, I will see you at the SBI later if you plan on sticking around.” He said before leaving. Isaac was waiting outside in the Camaro with a worried look on his face. Derek shot him a gentle smile.
“Damn hobo doesn’t know how to leave. Told him that he’d better report to the station later if he was sticking around.” Derek said ruffling the younger werewolf’s hair. Isaac frowned.
“Because he saw the Darach?” Isaac asked and Derek nodded.
“Partially. Mostly because the Darach seems interested in him and I’ll need information to keep her away from him.” Derek said and Isaac nodded, satisfied.
“He seemed to be able to take care of himself. I wonder what he is, I’ve never heard of anything with a barrier built into their aura.” Isaac said as Derek pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main street of the town.
The SBI or Supernatural Bureau of Investigation, was in charge of making sure that all non-humans were following the law. It would have been impossible for a human police officer to keep a werewolf in its beta form under control long enough to arrest it so it was Derek’s job as Captain to run the SBI office in Beacon Hills and keep everyone safe from the Supernatural criminals. Derek pulled his Camaro into the parking spot that was labeled ‘Captain’.
Isaac left the car first, carrying the large bag that contained everyone’s lunch. Derek let his head hit the back of his chair. Something told him that the damn hobo wasn’t going to follow instructions so instead of getting out of the car he started the engine and pulled back out of his parking spot. He returned to the dinner where the hobo was still sitting at the counter but Deputy Parrish had left.
“Come on, you need to give a statement.” Derek said grabbing the hobo by the arm and hauling him to his feet. So he was able to touch the hobo if he had no intention to harm said hobo. Derek filed the information away for further reference.
“I was going to come in. I’m not stupid enough to get SBI angry with me.” The hobo grumbled sullenly. Derek didn’t answer, just slammed two twenties down beside the register and manhandled the hobo out of the dinner towards his car.
“Get in.” Derek said sharply shoving the hobo towards the passenger side door.
“Enforcer Brutality, that’s what this is.” The hobo said and Derek raised an eyebrow.
“Get in before I put you in the back.” Derek countered. The hobo shot him a dirty look but climbed into the car. Derek let a smirk grace his lips as he rounded the car but his face was once more emotionless when he slid into the driver’s seat.
Stiles sat in an uncomfortable chair beside a metal desk that had definitely seen better days. The Sourwolf SBI officer who had brought him in was standing a few feet away talking in hushed voices with another SBI officer, this one female. Stiles didn’t hide the fact that he was ogling the Sourwolf who had brought him in, the man was sex on legs in his uniform. They seemed to come to an agreement and the Sourwolf walked over to where Stiles was sitting
“I’m going to need your ID.” He said towering over Stiles. Stiles raised an eyebrow and dug his tattered wallet out of his backpack and passed the worn ID over. Sourwolf took it over to a scanner and scanned it before returning to the desk and sitting down at the computer.
“Says here your species is ‘Classified’. I’m going to need to know it.” Sourwolf said raising one of his eyebrows and leveling Stiles with a stare that would have made lesser beings quiver in fear. Stiles wasn’t a lesser being.
“Classified means classified. If you don’t already know, you don’t get to know.” Stiles said cockily. The Sourwolf’s brows furrowed and the grip he had on the mouse probably left indents
“I don’t believe that you understand how dangerous this Dark Druid that you encountered last night is. She has already sacrificed four virgins and we are no closer to catching her.” The Sourwolf said shortly. Stiles stole a quick glance at his name tag. Hale. It was a familiar name, almost everyone knew about Talia Hale who had been one of the leaders in the Supernatural Right Movement thirty years ago. Stiles wasn’t sure if they were related
“Look. I would have been just fine last night without interference. I’m classified for a reason. A very good reason.” Stiles said leaning back and then because he was a curious little shit he asked
“Any relation to Talia Hale by any chance Enforcer Hale?” The Sourwolf’s bushy eyebrows seemed to try to merge into one big eyebrow with how hard the enforcer was glaring at him
“She’s my mother.” He said shortly and went back to his computer and typed a few things.
“She must be proud that her son is an Enforcer.” Stiles said poking to see if he could find a sore spot. Hale ignored him in favor of asking him to tell him everything that had been said between Stiles and the Darach last night. Stiles did, leaving out the fact that the Darach thought she knew what he was. The Enforcer typed everything up as he spoke and then printed it off for Stiles to sign. As he slammed the paper and pen down the Sourwolf spoke again
“I am not an Enforcer, I am the Captain.” Sourwolf said before stalking away towards an office. Stiles watched him go for several reasons. To see if he was telling the truth. To see where he was going exactly because Stiles was a nosey little shit. And mostly to watch the Sourwolf’s ass as he walked away. Werewolves were so lucky, they could eat all the greasy food they wanted and still not gain any weight. That ass was so fine you could bounce a quarter off it and Stiles decided then and there he was going to stick around a little longer and help with the Darach problem. If only to see that ass a bit more.